


Screaming at the Stars

by RoseWritingUniverses



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Craig likes space whats new, M/M, References to anxiety/depression, Stan is sad but thats not new either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseWritingUniverses/pseuds/RoseWritingUniverses
Summary: Craig found him. It didn’t require a lot of thinking or deep searching, he just walked to where his hunch lead him and opened the door. Stan didn’t really put any effort into hiding if that’s what he intended in the first place.Stan goes missing and Craig realizes that he knows where to look.





	Screaming at the Stars

Craig found him. It didn’t require a lot of thinking or deep searching, he just walked to where his hunch lead him and opened the door. Stan didn’t really put any effort into hiding... if that’s what he intended in the first place.

 

 

It was around five on Saturday and Craig stared at the stained ceiling of the McCormick house. He wasn’t sure if the smokey haze came from his imagination or the weed in the room. His thoughts were slow and most of them had to do with what-if questions about space. 

“Can you fucking shut the fuck up dude?” Kenny said, and Craig lifted his head off the bare mattress to stare at his friend-dealer.  _ Is he reading my mind? _

“No, I’m not reading your mind you dumbass, you’ve been talking about the stars for the last twenty minutes,” Kenny griped, and Craig let his head drop back to the mattress. 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

Time stretched on in the inconsistent way it does. From the topic of stars and him staring at the ceiling, Craig’s mind moved to the night before. A cool summer night with no clouds to be seen excited him. He packed up his telescope and left his house without waking anyone up. He walked to the woods where he knew of an area perfect for stargazing. Animals didn’t really threaten anyone in the woods, even at night, and especially when he was still relatively close to the town. Craig remembered smiling at how peaceful the night felt, how he could hear tree branches and leaves crackling from a distance. 

Craig started obsessing over space when he started school and his kindergarten teacher showed the class some educational video while she slept off her hangover. His parents didn’t give him this telescope until he was 9, and he didn’t start sneaking out to use it until the summer before high school. The two years since then showed as the grass stopped growing where his feet and the telescope stand constantly stood. He’d even carved his name into one the trees encircling the small space. 

The last thing he expected was to hear some creature howling and breaking the content spirit of the woods. He couldn’t identify whether it was a wolf or a coyote or whatever but knew it had to be some sort of animal, maybe one that had just gotten attacked. He’d heard a howl before and they didn’t make the hairs on his arm and neck raise like this one did. Trying to act like he wasn’t freaked out, he packed up his equipment and walked back home, staying as close as he could to light sources. 

Craig shivered at the memory of the sound when Kyle Broflovski burst through Kenny’s bedroom door. The whoosh of air around them all sobered Craig even more than the memory had. He was almost completely down from his high when Kyle jumped onto the bed and grabbed at Kenny. 

“Dude, we gotta find Stan,” the redhead said. His face was as red as his hair and his chest heaved as he panted. Kenny looked at him, eyebrows drawn and lips pursed together in a thin line. Craig slowly sat up and turned around to watch the two of them, not terribly concerned about anything. 

“The fuck are you talking about dude, I’m trying to enjoy my high,” Kenny said, but the caution in his voice said something else. 

“His mom literally called me ten minutes ago saying that she hasn’t seen him since he left for breakfast yesterday, and he’s nowhere in the house, and he hasn’t contacted her.” Shit, Stan was missing?

“Relax, Kyle, maybe he left for Boulder to blow off steam. He said something the other day about feeling shitty right? He always figures himself out and comes back,” Kenny said, placing a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. It looked kind of intimate to Craig, and he thought maybe they’d managed to completely ignore his presence. 

“His car is still in the driveway, and she said she found his phone in the passenger seat.” Kenny didn’t have a response to that, he just froze. After a couple seconds, he jumped off the bed and started putting his shoes on. 

“Shit, okay, let’s go. Sorry, Craig, we gotta go figure this out. Stay if you want, I don’t care,” Kenny said without looking at him. Kyle stared wide-eyed at Craig, most likely just then noticing he was there, and then the two of them were flying out of the house. Craig sat still for a minute and wondered what the hell he just witnessed. 

Everyone knew Stan Marsh was a little fucked up. Sometimes he showed up to school with bags under his eyes and the kind of low energy that indicated something deeper than a bad night of sleep. Other times he twitched a little. Nobody else noticed, but Craig saw it because he was attuned to Tweek’s twitches whenever the boy was stressed. Most of Stan’s twitches were small though, the only reason Craig really noticed them was because the boy would actively try to hide them. 

Craig found himself to be physically near Stan a lot. The mild rivalry that existed between Craig’s group of friends and Stan’s group of friends ended sometime in middle school. Kenny and Clyde most likely brought the two groups together given their friendly and inclusive natures. They all sat together at lunch and in any classes they had together. At lunch, the official-unofficial seating arrangement had Craig opposite Stan and one seat down. By chance, Craig happened to share a lot of classes with Stan. It felt impossible not to pay attention to him. 

Something in the back of his mind irritated him, tried to pull his mind’s eye to it. Craig felt like there was another piece of information that he was missing, yet staring him in the face. He relaxed his body and closed his eyes. He recounted the things he heard Kyle and Kenny say, about what he knew about Stan. He felt shitty sometimes. He disappeared sometimes. Sharon Marsh said she hadn’t seen him after yesterday morning so that means-

Craig opened his eyes and stared at the floor. He didn’t have a clear thought so much as a strong pull to get up and start walking. He climbed out of Kenny’s bedroom window and oriented himself. He walked until he got to the woods, and then walked alongside the edge of it until he reached a familiar path. He hadn’t walked on it since middle school when Stan and those guys held a party at the end of eighth grade. He thought about turning on some 80’s music but ended up walking in a dumb silence anyway. 

He stopped walking when the cabin came into view. It didn’t look like any lights were on and the door was shut. Nothing looked out of place but it didn’t stop Craig’s arm and neck hairs from rising like they had the night before. He took it as a sign and kept walking. 

He took a breath before reaching for the doorknob. It both relieved him and scared him to find it unlocked. 

“Stan?” he called softly. The sun still illuminated the space because it was summer. When he pushed the door open fully and stepped inside, his mindless search for the missing boy ended. 

Craig shut the door behind him, stupidly afraid of nonexistent prying eyes. He kept his own gaze on the boy curled up in the fetal position on the dirty hardwood. Glass bottles of different brands of alcoholic drinks scattered the large cabin room and a couple broken pieces could be found several feet away. The broken glass didn’t worry him so much as Stan’s face. 

The poor guy was definitely unconscious, and Craig doubted it was just because he was sleeping. Red scratches littered his face and throat. As Craig walked closer he noticed them on his hands and arms as well. Most didn’t look deep but some looked like there was dried blood caked on them. He knelt down and placed a hand on Stan’s shoulder. 

“Hey, Stan, wake up. Wake up, dude,” he whispered as he shook him slightly. His heartbeat raced faster as Stan didn’t show any signs of waking up. He tried harder, spoke louder. His voice started to shake and his nails dug into Stan’s ratty shirt. It took almost fifteen seconds of this before Stan moaned weakly and tried to swat at the air. 

“Stan, it’s Craig. You need to wake up,” he ordered. Stan’s eyelids fluttered open and struggled to stay so. Stan barely looked at Craig for more than a couple seconds before closing his eyes again. 

“Why?” Craig wasn’t sure if this was a question of existential crisis or just a question coming from a sleepy teenage boy. 

“Because it’s Saturday evening and people are fucking looking for you, man,” Craig said. He knew Stan didn’t feel well-  _ couldn’t _ feel well- but the stern voice had to stay until Stan was alert and coherent enough to stand and start walking. 

“Tell them to stop,” Stan whimpered. He tried to curl into himself even more. 

“I- I can’t. Look, I don’t know what happened here but I seriously think you need to see a doctor.” The dirt on the floor probably didn’t do well for the open scratches all over Stan’s skin. 

“Don’t care. Go away.” As much as Craig wanted to believe otherwise, he knew there was no way Stan would behave like this if he wasn’t actually fucked up in some way. He looked around for a blanket after noticing how cool Stan felt. He got up to grab the one resting on a table a few feet away.

He wrapped Stan in the blanket as he slowly lifted him up. Craig may have been tall and somewhat physically active, but compared to Stan he felt like a giant. The smaller noiret stopped growing at five-four and gave up on sports in freshman year. He was still active, but he didn’t have the body of the football player he could have been. Craig picked him up with ease and felt a little disappointed at Stan’s sad attempt to turn away. 

“Sorry Stan, but I can’t leave you here.” Stan mumbled something in response as Craig started walking out, but it drowned in the fabric of Craig’s shirt. 

Craig figured adrenaline was pumping through him at a high concentration when he realized he was still carrying Stan ten minutes later. His arms were tiring out though and it was only a matter of time before he had to stop. He didn’t find out how much longer he could have gone before Stan spoke up. 

“I need to throw up,” he said, wiggling until Craig almost dropped him. He set him down and the small boy ran to the bushes. Craig turned away, both for his sake and Stan’s. He tried to think about what was happening and what he should be doing for the couple of minutes he heard Stan gagging. Shit, he needed to text Kenny and let him know that he found their friend. He managed to press send before Stan crumpled to the ground. 

Craig wrapped the blanket around him again as he picked him up. He walked just a few feet further away before sitting down against a large tree. He kept him between his legs in an effort to share his body heat. Stan didn’t seem to mind too much, so Craig expanded on the idea and wrapped his arms around his waist. It almost felt comforting. 

“Kyle and Kenny are coming, we’re gonna sit and wait for them, okay?” He almost felt bad for talking to him like a child. 

“Why? They don’t care,” Stan whined. The words came out slurred and he didn’t even try to not lean against the taller boy. 

“Yes they do, they tore out of the house like a bat out of hell when they realized you were missing,” Craig replied. Stan whimpered again. 

“They never cared before. I told them I felt bad. I always tell them I feel bad, they never do anything,” Stan said. He shivered, and Craig took to rubbing his arms, mindful of the scratches. He pulled the boy in closer so that he could see his face better. 

“I think this time might be worse than other times, Stan. You really disappeared and now you’re barely able to walk with scratches literally all over you.” This seemed to be the first moment that Stan looked at his body. He looked a little scared, but not to the point that he started to freak out. 

“Oh no,” he whispered. Craig furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What happened? Did you fight a porcupine or something?” Stan shook his head and started to pick at the dried blood under his fingernails. 

“No,” he said quietly, “I think I did it myself. I got really drunk, and then I got really mad… threw some bottles at the walls. I started to have an anxiety attack and it felt like my skin was crawling. Just didn’t realize what I was doing I guess.” 

Craig thought again about the sound he heard. He didn’t say anything to Stan about it. It wasn’t an animal’s howl, it was him screaming. Stan was out in his uncle’s cabin, panicking and scratching at his own skin… and screaming. He tightened his grip on Stan who was truly too out of it to mind. 

He thought about Tweek and his breakdown in the fifth grade. The hospital made him stay almost a week when he admitted he’d run into the wall on purpose. The extended visit didn’t do him any good. 

They didn’t say anything until Craig picked up on the sounds of Kenny’s beaten pickup truck. He put his lips to Stan’s ear. 

“Don’t tell them the truth about those. Say that an animal did it.”

 

Craig didn’t see Stan again for a couple weeks. Even though Craig rode in the truck with them to the hospital, he didn’t stay long after they arrived. Kenny texted him updates anyway, short sentences that told him what he already knew. 

_ Stan’s checked in. His mom’s here. The doctor came in and examined him. Stan said he got drunk. He may have gotten into it with an animal. Doctor says he’s dehydrated, maybe malnourished. His body temp is a little low. They’re keeping him overnight.  _

_ Thank you for finding him. _

Stan ended up staying a little more than a day. When Craig came over to get high for the first time after the incident, Kenny explained that Sharon had to promise Stan would get help. While the alcohol seemed like the obvious problem, the doctor could tell from their friend’s sullen demeanor that just putting a lock on the liquor cabinet wouldn’t do any good. Stan went to therapy once a week, as recommended by his counselor. 

On one of the few truly hot days of the summer, all Craig could do was sit in his room playing a game (about space) on his phone. He didn’t think much when his mom yelled up the stairs that he had a visitor. He figured it would be Token or Clyde. When his door opened and the figure standing there turned out to be several inches shorter, Craig looked up. 

“Hi.” Stan offered him a small smile as he waved. Craig moved so that his legs hit the floor. 

“Come in,” he whispered. Stan nodded and shut the door behind him. He sat next to Craig on the bed and looked at the floor. 

Craig stared at him for a moment without caring. The last time he saw the guy was when he was barely conscious and covered in red marks caused by his own nails. He could still see where some of the bigger ones were healing. Most of them were gone, and maybe Craig was sitting just close enough, but he could still tell that Stan had gone through something rough. His pallor had improved though, and he seemed like he was bigger. 

“I wanted to say thank you,” Stan said. He looked Craig directly in the eyes and held his gaze without even trying. Craig couldn’t look away if he tried, and he didn’t want to. 

“You don’t have to.” Craig barely even remembered how he got to the cabin, it was like he teleported there from Kenny’s house. 

“But I want to. You could’ve just minded your own business but you just showed up and you… I think you saved me. So thank you.” They stared at each other for another moment before Stan finally broke away. He turned his head so that Craig could barely see his face. 

“What happened.” It came out before Craig really understood what the words meant, but he knew Stan did. The smaller boy sighed. 

“I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety a few years back. It’s not that uncommon, actually. It wasn’t until about a year ago that it got bad enough for my mom to let me be put on medication, but only the one for my anxiety. We didn’t try therapy because it was more expensive and my mom wasn’t really convinced it was more than just a long phase. 

“She really didn’t like that I was a teenager on prescription medication for a mental thing. She worried so much that I worried so sometimes I skipped days. If I went more than a day then I felt kind of sick, but I could make a month’s prescription last longer. The week that… that it happened I had run out on that Tuesday. I felt sick by Wednesday night and I could barely function Thursday, and that’s just the physical stuff. Mentally I felt like shit. I don’t remember a lot of what happened that Friday but I think I really broke down. I think something really bad happened in my head.”

Stan turned to Craig again, with his beautiful doe eyes. “I don’t mean to sound mushy, but you did more than you think. You didn’t just find me, you really tried to help me. And you  _ held _ me. You wrapped me in a blanket and you held me and I know you didn’t mean it in any certain way but-”

Craig cut the boy off by placing his lips on him. He brought his hand up to caress Stan’s cheek. He felt a couple bumps where a cut was healing but otherwise the skin was smooth. Stan’s hand ghosted over Craig’s other one that rested on the bed. He pulled back and saw Stan smiling at him. 

“You’re really handsome,” Stan whispered, “and a lot nicer than people give you credit for.” Craig chuckled at that and kissed his cheek in response. 

“I like some more than others. Like you,” Craig said. Stan’s smile grew. 

“I like you too.” Craig moved again and pulled Stan into his arms, back to chest. He rested his chin lightly on Stan’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes and Stan seemed relaxed. 

“You can come here when you feel bad. If you don’t I’ll just keep finding you,” he whispered. Stan hummed. 

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow isn't this sad and sweet. I wrote this in less than three hours and I did NOT go and check for typos or misspellings! It's 4 in the morning!!! If you see a mistake (or several) let me know!


End file.
